Fred, newly indoor-outdoor cat,
likes to bring in his finds
for us to exclaim at. Magpie-cat,
peddler-cat, hobo-cat, treasure-cat.
That section of vine he trotted in with yesterday
had eyes. Wary-eyes, scary-eyes, little brown
gem berry-eyes. Still as a vine but velvety, segmented.
Still life. Still alive. Now, I’m not one to touch a snake,
but could not stop to think; popped him in the teapot,
leaving Fred bereft. The opulent ribbon poured
from the pot onto the glass topped table; exotic jungle tea.
Unmarred, thank God. Satin smooth. We took a little walk,
friend snake and I. Found the perfect rock, and he turned
liquid bronze and flowed beneath, a shape-shifter.
A little garden god. Granting my wish; wonder.